


Paint My Spirit Gold

by rxcrcfllptrs



Series: Neither Freer AU [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Power Rangers, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/pseuds/rxcrcfllptrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's too old to be jumping around in spandex and destroying monsters of malicious origins. But hey, at least he's never had to get a real job. Take that, mom.</p>
<p>Also known as the story of SPD Austin, or the Rooster Teeth Power Rangers AU that no one wanted but I am providing anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Your Heart's Still Beating

**Author's Note:**

> HEAVILY inspired by [Bright Skies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/338328) by Tsukino_Akume, a fic I highly recommend.
> 
> Chapter prompt is "Defiant", with chapter title from Plumb song "Hang On".

Matt looks on to a battlefield, silent as he surveys the smoke and ashes left by violence, blood and ichor spilt by both sides fighting for their own truths. He looks at his teammates down below, demorphed and aching from the conflict, holding on to each other but all of them barely able to stand, much less support another person.

“Red to Blue. Ambulances will be here soon,” Burnie tells him through the communicator, voice weak and tired. “It’d be great if you can make your way down here before then. Red out.”

His team settles on a structure that might’ve been the remains of a park statue, metal melted away to show a hollow inside. “Blue to Red. Will be down there in five. Blue out.”

For the first time in the day, Matt demorphs. “Power down,” he mutters, bracing himself for pain. Despite expecting it, it’s like a punch in the gut - probably was the cause for it - and he nearly doubles over in pain, but sucks in a deep breath and puts an arm on his abdomen. It’ll pass.

Today perhaps marks the day that Salem Hills is freed from the tyranny of the so-called Olympian League, the day when they had all set aside their differences and finally put an end to the reign of terror reinforced by powerful amalgams and unexplainable forces of nature. Man triumphed this day.

And yet, Matt still remembers that he’s only 17, and wonders if the trauma of having to hack and slash and destroy so many amalgams will ever go away. He remembers his first nightmare, of almost killing Joel because he nearly forgot about the latter’s Aquitian characteristics, he could’ve been a murderer.

What’s the difference between then and now? he asks himself, but doesn’t think on it as descending the elevated platform (that might have also been a building a few days prior) in his current state was a challenge.

He still rarely has the nerve to look at Joel in the eye, some days.

He hobbles over to the rest of his team, Kathleen putting her ER training to work to let the others get some ease whilst they wait for the ambulance.

“I can’t believe Gus hasn’t, like, found blueprints for a teleportation system,” Burnie breaks the silence with his complaint, noticing Matt limp over to them. “There’s more people out there who don’t have the Power that need medical care, and I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that the original rangers of Earth had teleportation beams like in Star Trek.”

“Burns, Gus is also 14 years old,” Griffon reminds him. “Even if he found schematics for them in the archives, I don’t think he’d be able to make heads or tails of it for a few years.”

“Nah,” he waves away the correction. “Gus is smart, if these Olympians didn’t think of trying to mount a final attack just after that meteor shower a few weeks back, he’d have had the time to work on it.”

“Whatever you say,” she remarks with a sigh.

They were six individuals who were handpicked by an Oracle from another dimension to protect this city - none of them being native to it, either - and now... the threat was gone. Even if it returns, it would be long after their time. Six individuals whose experiences are unique to less than a hundred in the seven billion world population.

There would be very few who could understand what they had to go through, and the thought of it was very lonely.

“What happens now?” Geoff asks, hunched over and staring at the horizon. The sun is starting to set, and it’s like a spell is broken. The world is no longer silent, the dull roar of the city starting to filter in, sirens and traffic the bulk of it.

“Therapy sounds like a good idea,” Joel suggests, playing with the frayed edge of a makeshift bandage Kathleen wrapped his hand in.

“Well, I have a degree to finish,” Matt says. “It’s what got me in this mess. Might as well finish it while I’m still here.”

For a moment, it’s silent save for the sounds of the city. “Oh crud,” Burnie says to himself, muscle memory wanting him to hunch over and rub his temples. “Ow, jeez!” he says in pain, broken ribs making themself known. Everyone looks at him.

“I don’t have an excuse to not go back to the station now. Oww.”

“They’ll probably give you a break, considering whatever excuse you make up for your predicament can probably fly, what with the rangers and the Olympians razing the city,” Kathleen points out, settled next to Griffon.

“Well, if you put it that way, it makes me want to get locked up and end up in the station as a headline and not a PA. And I don’t think someone who just turned 18 and is sustaining this much injury should be in jail.”

He isn’t looking, but he knows she moves slightly as a shrug. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. It could’ve been worse.”

Someone’s communicator beeps, and a tinny, pre-pubescent voice filters through. “Are you guys okay? Wait, no, stupid question. The news said there’s a shortage of ambulances right now and I know someone’s already called for one but yeah. I’m coming to pick you up.”

“When’d you find time to get a driver’s licence?” Geoff replies incredulously.

“No, no. I meant that I’m in the car with my mom to pick you guys up. You guys are still at the park, right?”

Burnie stands, surveying the area for a moment. “Yep. None of our vehicles are on call right now, too.”

There’s a sigh, distorted but evident. “That’s a summer project for another time. We’re 5 minutes away. Gus out.”

***

It takes them about three weeks to be able to walk without needing to double over once in a while. A month to figure out that they need to be in adjacent rooms, lest Matt starts sleepwalking to the nearest person and promptly scaring the crud out of them.

Four months after, it’s summer vacation and Joel left for Aquitar in the eve of what might be another drought. Summer for Griffon, Burnie, and Gus is fixing the vehicles without much help from the Power. Summer for Matt is visiting relatives by the coast, all the while continuing to check for any metereological inconsistencies even though he’s nowhere near Salem Hills from force of habit. Summer for Geoff is signing up for journalism classes to keep his mind off of the trauma of the last three years.

A year after, the Power still lingers. Geoff is with the army now, and everyone is puzzled as to why he has so many tattos in his arm but can’t seem to curse. That year, Burnie picks up his degree again with real intentions of finishing it. Griffon ditches figure skating for wood carving, but does rounds every once in a while. Kathleen jumps from state to state, finding new purpose to her life through helping and teaching others. Gus is isolated from his peers, aloof but smart and always has the correct answer to the robotics, physics, or classical history question in class.

After the Olympians, they separate, looking forward to bumping into each other every once in a while for drinks or a friendly chat, the next 40 years of their life no longer in spandex and encountering creatures of alien origins.

How wrong they were.


	2. I Look Up To The Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter prompt is "Powder", with chapter title from Jessie J's "Flashlight".
> 
> This chapter is set around two (2) decades after the first one.

There are only so few days where Rangers get days off. Even then, they’re still technically on duty as long as there’s a looming threat in the city - the world, even. Gavin’s always had trouble with it, envious of Ryan’s ability to wake with even the smallest sound. He sleeps like a log, and sometimes it takes a bucket of cold water to get him awake, “SPD Emergency” lodged in his throat.

Maybe one day it’ll come back and bite him in the bum, but for now he can enjoy sleeping like a log without affecting his team. But he digresses. Someone else has been sleeping like a log and it hit their team hard. But unlike him, they had no choice in the matter.

***

Today’s battle wasn’t too challenging, a snowmaker settled in the city, covering New Austin in blankets of white. Surprise to no one, his weapon came in handy for that day, energy grenades quick to melt and destroy the snowmen that kept rising up from the snow. Granted, none of them will be enjoying a vacation in the Alps anytime soon, but at least the city didn’t suffer major casualties.

Gavin smiles. Barbara finally had sufficient proof that the poor in the city were living in inhospitable environments, even in a place like New Austin, and has been busy helping nonprofits get their supplies to the people that need them.

He hasn’t demorphed, boots muffling out the noise his own shoes normally make when he’s walking in the hallways, not wanting to cause ire in any resting cadets in the barracks. Soon he ends up in front of a door that he normally visits in the afternoon, when they had to change roommates because of the imbalance of people in the ranger barracks. The door’s sign is still unchanged, the scrawl of ‘Geoffrey suks dik’ big and bright.

It’s uncharacteristic of Geoff to leave it unchanged, having the need to see something new every time he looks at the door. But they have a reason, a reason two years lying dormant and no one knows exactly when he’ll wake.

“Hey Michael,” he greets the empty bed. It’s still messy, blanket on the floor, pillows not appearing to be anywhere near the thing. But the pink bedding is there, so he knows he’s not about to go into Geoff’s stained one. Gross.

The fine layer of dust on it seems to get thicker and thicker with each passing day, everyone on the team being adamant that his side of the room be left untouched. The only change that occurred is the addition of his helmet, visor cracked and often cleaned because of how often Gavin stays in his room after missions. He never ever takes off his gloves whenever he touches it in fear that something might happen to the helmet or its owner.

“We fought another monster today. It was a snow maker, it didn’t have a mouth so it never gave a name. You would’ve loved it, wouldn’t you? You always hated the dumb names they came up with, could’ve insulted him without any kind of dumb quip that’d get you angrier.

“Anyway, New Austin got covered with a whole lot of snow. It’s June, so people don’t really expect the cold. I’m used to it, though. My energy grenades were a great help, melting out everything in one or two shots. It was so quick, he didn’t even get to grow big like all the other ones do. And you said my tolerance to the cold was gonna be useless in a city always so hot,” he puffs up his chest in pride, but deflates again at the continuation. “We had to get him quick, else people would’ve frozen to death. It finally got the city’s attention that folks on the street don’t have that much to live off of, especially in the cold. Barbara’s been trying to help ‘em two months after you...” he trails off.

“Anyway! We think she’s gonna be busy for the week, so we’re gonna be two rangers short. If you can manage to wake up before the next monster strikes, that’d be top,” he pats the top of the helmet. Michael never likes it when he pats him on the head, always the sign that he’s taller than the Michael when morphed. Always a slew of curses in another language that the Power doesn’t deem enough to censor.

“Take your time, though. No pressure or anything,” he sits beside the helmet, the same spot that never meets too much dust. “Let’s see... what else happened this week that I should tell you about?” he taps his chin, deep in thought.

“Oh! Blaine thought it’d be a good idea to start pranking Meg, the minge,” he shakes his head in the memory of having to scrape silly string off her office. “Can’t wait to see what she comes up with. Oh! And a few weeks back, I think I told you this before, but some of the rangers from Neo Angeles came by to help out with a monster that thought it was a good idea to strike two ranger bases. The others were,” his voice drops low. “Incapacitated at the moment. Shrunk and trapped in amber like bugs.”

“Nothing seemed to do the trick in trying to unfreeze them, until Ben - of all the people! - found out that the stuff he uses on the grime on our mech joints works on thing! Who’d’ve thought? Ben walked around the base with too big an ego for a week. He was insufferable, honestly. If you were around you’d set him back a few notches. You were always good at that, putting people in their place. I still wonder why you weren’t the red ranger.

“I mean, not that Kathleen isn’t great or anything, but you could’ve fit red like a glove. Maybe less experienced than Kathleen, but who honestly has more than her? Maybe Tommy Oliver, but yeah. Pink is a touch lighter than red, so I guess you are a red ranger in your own way,” he acquiesces. “Ranger history and colour tradition’s never been my strong suit. I should ask Ryan about it some time.

“He’s become a bit of a grease monkey, helping out with vehicle maintenance since he doesn’t have many sparring mates that last past the first two rounds. Adam Kovic, new guy from F Squad is the closest one who actually manages to put up a fight like you do. I don’t know how he manages with all the spare energy in the time he isn’t. I mean, I have lightball with Caleb and Fugs, that’s Kdin, Geoff started calling her that and I started doing it too.

“I guess tinkering with oversized mechas are more tiring than smaller vehicles, devices and stuff,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. The fluid they pump into those tanks makes me woozy, so I can’t stay in the hangars for too long. They’ve been working twice as hard too, Burnie thinks B Squad can handle having morphers. Means more weapons, vehicles, the lot. Can’t wait to see Geoff in spandex again, it’ll be awesome.” He chuckles at the thought. The door whirrs to life, letting another person enter the room.

“Don’t let Monty hear you say that,” the aforementioned Geoff warns. “He’ll bore you to death with a 50-slide presentation on how the suits are made from something better than spandex. And I’ve had it at least five times. Man doesn’t know when to quit.”

“Looks like spandex and feels like spandex so it’s gonna be called spandex, and not some hypo-fluoro-draxer-whatchamahoozy,” Gavin replies, standing up from the bed. “You got your new morpher today?”

Geoff, in standard SPD uniform, bellyflops onto his bed. “Nah. Won’t be for a while. We’re short one person, as you well know,” he rolls so he’s looking up to the ceiling, then scoots to the wall to sit up, looking at Gavin. “Ashley’s good, but it offsets the group dynamics a bit. The Power doesn’t recognise her as a teammate, and it just feels a bit wrong when we’re doing drills, fighting crime and all that,” he waves off the topic with his hand, when Gavin opens his mouth to reply.

“Did you see yourself in this situation twenty years ago, Geoff?” Gavin sits on the edge of Geoff’s bed. “Talking about ‘The Power’ and fighting weird monsters in multicoloured spandex? You thought Power Rangers were a load of baloney until Burnie and Matt convinced you that all those monster appearances weren’t just something from a bad casserole.”

Geoff makes a face at that. “Yeah, I still think it’s a load of horsesh-“ he coughs, the Power’s attempt at censoring him. “Sometimes I still think it’s all just a great, terrible dream, because I was 18 and supposed to be a journalist with the army, and now I’m 40 and one of the founding members of a futuristic version of NAPD, maybe one day accepting my second morpher. Life flips you over that way.”

Gavin’s face is pensive for a moment. “Tell you what. One of these days, when stuff isn’t too hectic and there aren’t any water-related monsters, we can go out for swimmy bevs, yeah? Michael might be there too,” he gestures to the helmet. Memories of the pink ranger swarms them both, dampening the lightened mood. The feeling isn’t as bleak as it used to be, though.

Geoff hums in agreement. “We need good alcohol. We can’t get drunk from ‘em so might as well make it taste good. Maybe steal Burnie’s grill for the day,” his voice is wistful. “You can invite all the cadets, the drill sergeants, the entire SPD, if we find a big enough place for it.”

“And leave all the work to the interns? New Austin’d be vulnerable,” Gavin replies.

“We could flood one of the multipurpose rooms with those pit traps that Gus put in for fun. We’d all still be in SPD and having swimmy bevs at the same time.”

Gavin snorts. “The logistics of this party’s gonna be crazy, what with checking everyone’s schedules, convincing the vehicle department to let us use their equipment, trying to get actual good alcohol into a place like New Austin for SPD... I can’t wait ’til we have the free time to do it.”

“At least we’ll have a pool to put marine-related things now, if ever Ray wants to continue that project of putting laser beams on sharks.”

“Frickin’ lasers!” Gavin exclaims.

“Frickin’ sharks with frickin’ lasers on their frickin’ heads!” Geoff mimics the accent in turn. “God, that movie is old.”

“I wasn’t the only who suggested a movie that was nearly 30 years old in movie night,” Gavin smirks, poking fun at Geoff’s very apparent taste for things that are just around the same age as the man.

“It’s a classic. I gotta teach you kids the greats ‘cause all you have now are movies that rely on special effects more than good writing.”

Gavin’s morpher beeps, cutting their conversation short. A few taps on the interface shows text scrolled through in a lightning fast pace. “Duty calls. Have to help Meg carry a few parcels of trout from the market. Blaine’s not gonna see this one coming.”

“He’ll probably smell it for a sec then cook it for dinner because he’s too broke to buy anything but energy drinks and protein supplements,” Geoff comments, shaking his head. “Crazy kids,” he mutters to himself.

Gavin exits the room smiling, with something like a lighter feeling compared to when he entered. But. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach that tells him that something big is coming.

He has these feelings often (and they tend to be flukes more often than they aren’t) so he waves it off, jogs to the entrance of the hangar where his motorbike awaits.


	3. Let's Go Back to Simplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter prompt is "Grateful", with chapter title from Jess Glynne song "Don't Be So Hard On Yourself".

Matt Peake sits in his own little corner of the hangar, deep in thought despite the distractions of boisterous sound come from other areas. Hammers banging away at metal parts, robots drilling with fine precision, and of course the occasional explosion that comes with working on technology that has only ever been used for ranger utilities.

He’s hard at work at fixing a bug that seems to happen currently with one of the zords for B-Squad. Kerry’s, if he recalls correctly. Future SPD Yellow with a knack for shorting electrical circuits, as was standard for most young Triforians with power over electricity. He’s seen it in combat, effectively knocking out technological implantations in mutated amalgams of flesh and machine and god knows what else.

With a wince, he tries to set aside such a morbid concept by continuing his thought process. In one sweep of his hand, a catalogue of materials shows up on his holo-screen, pushing away other programs he has open - program debugging, blueprints, the like. He glances at the projection of the world outside, sun high in the clear blue sky, as though New Austin hadn’t been struck with a snow-producing menace in the first place.

He purses his lips as he writes down ‘more insulation, temp control on existing zords’ on the holo-screen, then swats it out of the screen to be recalled another day.

He’s in full mechanic mode now, mind running a mile a minute in an attempt to fix the problem. Theorising, replacing, simulating, always a disappointingly negative ‘FAILURE’ on the screen. With the shake of his head, he sets about going through all the previous attempts, seeing if he’s exhausted all the possible combinations at the moment. He might have to go ask Kerry for more readings on their abilities, there might’ve been something he missed.

A hand touched his shoulder, making him jump.

“You okay?” It’s Adam, a worried look on his face. Immediately the panic melts into relief, at least he doesn’t have to worry about James or Bruce getting too rowdy in the hangar.

“Yeah,” Matt replies. “Shouldn’t you guys still be in training? It’s only...” he looks at the projection. The sun’s set and the bright blue has become a muted indigo. “Huh. I guess I lost track of time.”

Adam scratches his neck, uneasy smile on his face. “They sent me. They know I don’t make you panic when I call you.”

Matt nods, understanding the difficulty Adam has when it comes to such things. “It’s okay. I’ll finish what I’m doing then we can walk to the food hall. Unless they sent you here without eating first...?”

There’s a long pause, probably Adam trying to find the correct word to say. “I... took initiative. They all seemed to tired after training today, so I went.” Matt sighs.

“Just because you’re more capable doesn’t mean you don’t need food,” he turns away from Adam, manipulating the GUI so that all his current work is saved and set to open the next time he opens it. The screen shows a floppy disk symbol before shutting down completely. _Outdated technology. Now nothing more than a symbol._

“Alright, let’s walk,” Peake slings over his messenger bag, then gestures at the door. “C’mon.”

Adam nods mutely, following him out the hangar. A burst of cold air greets the pair as the doors open, welcoming them back to a more sterile environment of the SPD base.

“What are you working on?” Adam asks.

“Some incompatible technology and materials for the B-Squad zords. You’ve met Kerry, right?”

“Yes. The Triforian, correct?”

“Yup. They has control over electricity, so we have to take a few steps further for their team’s zords, so that nothing goes wrong if ever their power gets uncontrollable and paralyses the entire thing.”

“I met another Triforian once, in transit as we were being transported to Earth.”

He perks up at that information. Adam rarely divulges anything about his life before being on Earth. “Really now?”

Adam nods. “Control over fire. I explored the ship and saw them managing heating elements.”

Matt shrugs. “Of course. If only Kerry had control over Fire or Earth. It’d be less struggle for us to build a zord around.”

“Kerry was born into that way. You have to adapt, because there is no way to change them.”

“True, true,” the food hall’s doors open automatically, and it takes a few seconds for F-Squad to react, but after that, their table is a cacophony of “Peake! Peake! Peake!” and rumbling noises and hands shooting up to signal where they are. Even Spoole’s managed to be there earlier than he did.

No amount of shouts and admonishments keep their spirit down, and Matt is grateful for that.

***

There’s always an extra desk in the Tech labs, whenever any of the other departments are collaborating with Tech for a project for the city or something or other. It’s closest to Ray’s desk after he’d called dibs on the desk that was supposed to be the spare because it was closest to the exit.

And it’s not because he hates his job or anything, god no. But more because it’s closest to the pantry. He always has to guard his lunch lest Monty takes it absentmindedly as he goes about his day. The guy’s a busy man and is responsible for right about 50% of all the stuff that ever gets out of the labs, he isn’t gonna give Monty his own crappy lunch for it. Anyway, that spare desk rarely gets used by folks from the other departments, until fairly recently.

Ryan (A-Squad Blue) has been hanging around Tech more often, in the same way that Gavin goes to bug Gus in Info and Meg in Intergalactic Relations in his downtime, and Kathleen with the Drill Sergeants. Frequency of attacks on the city by foreign forces started declining about four months ago, which meant that A-Squad had more downtime than they were ever really used to.

Which, for Ray, means that he has to add more security to his lunch because for sure Ryan’s gonna reverse-engineer a toothpick and turn it into a refrigerator destroyer of insanity in his fits of boredom, and he’ll have to settle for stale cafeteria food or gross synthesised food.

Or just add another bioscanner module, but he’s not all about putting effort into things. He isn’t an effort kind of guy.

He leans on his seat, waiting for his code to check out with the system. Yet another smallish AI that he can upload to any kitchen device of his choosing, randomising the wavelength the microwave spits out, undercooking or overcooking toast, just to mess with those who trespass the Tech pantry. But again, he isn’t that kind of guy. He prides himself in being a true neutral, lawful neutral on days where he feels particularly nice.

“Whatcha workin’ on there, Ray?” voice muffled by food, Ryan asks. Ray looks behind him, seeing the ranger in more casual wear leaning on the doorframe.

“It’s...” red text starts blooming in the terminal, then Ray sighs. “Nothing, right now. Some digital asshattery for anyone who tries to mess with my food,” he looks at Ryan pointedly at the last statement, recognising the bread from his own stash.

Ryan tilts his head, corners of his lips raising to mock an innocent smile. “Who would ever mess with your food now?”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Beats me. The only people here that I know who are into these kinds of stuff are me, JJ, Matt from the DVDs, and,” he gestures to the food Ryan’s eating. “You.”

“Oh!” The man has the gall to look surprised at the sandwich he’s eating. “So that’s what I had to debug before I got to the bread! I fixed the bug, by the way. It kept looping back to ‘Identify yourself’ whenever I used the bioscanner. It’s all fixed, though! Responds to my biometrics now.”

Ray lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Thanks a lot, Ryan. I’ve been having _so_ much trouble with that bug for the _longest_ time.”

“No problem,” he reaches out to pat Ray’s shoulder. “Anything for a fellow tech.” And with that, Ryan’s gone again, maybe to terrorise Patrick or some other intern in the wing.

Ray looks back at the screen, muttering to himself, looking at all the spots where he can put more security, trying to come up with a code that’ll prevent anyone but him from accessing the deobfuscated version. Encryption is so two decades ago. “Goddammit,” he mutters to himself. More work for a side project.

He swears he heard someone snigger at that, but he sets aside that program for today, pulling up the monstrous file that is ‘BSQMZCTRL v5.0.2. He looks at the recent editor - “SPD NA ASq2” - and sighs again. Goddammit, Ryan.

***

“So are you always gonna be here at lunch time? Because if you do, I’m gonna have to give you your own passcode. Which, I’m reluctant to do, but might be necessary because you use JJ’s. Or! I’m gonna have to ask one of the tech guys to upgrade the security in this place because boy oh boy, you are definitely not supposed to be here,” Samantha says, pausing with every bite of her salad. “Why are you here anyway?”

Blaine shrugs, a slight smile on his face. “Beats me. I always just seem to end up here every lunch time.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, you are definitely a bad liar. Spill the beans, Gibson,” she brandishes the melon slice impaled on her fork at him menacingly. “And don’t think I don’t notice this at all! No sir. You’ve been here every lunchtime for the past two months. And you always seem to be hanging around JJ’s desk, as well as using his passcode! What’s your angle?”

With a chuckle, Blaine moves the fork away from his face. “I mean, I dunno. What do you think I’m doing here, Sam?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it were any other person, I’d have thought you were dating them. But since this is JJ, the bitchiest person alive and social recluse extraordinaire, I’m pretty sure you’re doing something stalker-ish in nature. And I don’t like it when any one of the KIAs become the prey rather than the predator.”

He raises his hands. “You got me! I’m totally stalking JJ, bitchiest person alive and social recluse extraordinaire,” he mutters something else under his breath but it’s too faint to understand.

“I don’t believe you, I don’t believe you at all,” she puts the fork in the container, using the free hand to rub her chin.

“I just told you what you thought the reason was for me hanging around JJ’s desk all day!” he throws his hands up in the air, exasperated.

“Yeah, but you gave in too easily and took the bait, something liars do often,” her tone is smug yet investigatory.

“Ladies, ladies,” a voice cuts in between their argument. “You’re both pretty, but I’m the fairest of them all,” JJ steps in from the break room, in more casual attire than the standard SPD uniform. “So what’s going on here?”

“Blaine is stalking you!” Sam blurts out, before quickly covering her mouth. “Or rather, that’s what I think he’s doing, based on behaviour started around... hm, two-ish weeks ago? Either way, it’s shifty. I don’t wanna see the likes of him hanging around you,” as she says this, she’s giving Blaine the stink eye.

JJ sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Stand down, soldier. I can take care of myself.”

Sam now turns to JJ and gives him the stink eye. “That’s not what you said three months ago when you got drunk at that bar and said-“ her eyes widen when he proceeds to cover her mouth.

“We don’t talk about that in this household,” he says, looking at her then Blaine, then removing his hand. He straightens his jacket before looking at her again.

“Ew,” she wipes her mouth. “Now I have your cooties.”

“Cooties?” Blaine asks JJ, he shrugs.

“Eltarians. Pretty damn sensitive to alien DNA,” he says as a reply.

“No, no. It’s more of whatever parasite that seems to feed on your happiness that leaves out everything else, making you more aggressive than most Earthians,” JJ stiffens, then proceeds to grab Blaine’s arm.

“Anyway! We’re gonna go out for lunch. Blaine’s treating me and it looks like you’ve had lunch already, sorry gotta go leave now bye!” In a rush, JJ pulls Blaine to the exit without so much as an explanation to what Sam just said.

***

Outside, the sun is bright and the sky is blue. “What was it that Sam said about you...? Parasites?” Blaine asks in between bites of food.

JJ is sipping something that shouldn’t be drunk in the middle of a work day, something alcoholic and fruity and probably pricey, but Blaine doesn’t mind. “Nah, probably because she isn’t used to having people sass her around even though she’s from Eltar.”

Blaine shrugs. “Fair enough. Hey, isn’t Eltar where that Zordon guy came from?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [SPD New Austin A-Squad](http://diveintotheunknown.tumblr.com/post/164634452225/space-patrol-delta-new-austin-base-a-squad-from), to clear up some confusion on who is part of the squad.


End file.
